


Healing Hands

by RubyFiamma



Series: Daily Life Arc {Future Vongola Edition} [4]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, Hand Jobs in the Bathtub, M/M, Pre-Premonition!verse, Premonition!verse, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamamoto's not feeling well and Gokudera has just the right touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tastewithouttalent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/gifts).



> Because hand jobs in the bathtub are hot and because Kat keeps lavishing me with amazing stories and because we are DESTROYING each other with this ship. I'm not sorry.

**Healing Hands**

* * *

 

When Yamamoto opens his eyes, it’s excruciatingly slow. There’s a dull burn and ache behind his eyeballs, and when he blinks he fears they might spontaneously combust with the amount of heat that emits from them. He can already feel the sting of tears collecting in the wells of his eyes and they bring no relief from the pain.

When he opens his eyes again, he looks to Gokudera’s side of the bed and frowns when he sees nothing but an empty pillow. He wonders what time it is because the heavy curtains are drawn and the clock is on the nightstand behind him and looking at it would require him to turn around. Yamamoto knows turning around right now isn’t an option, he can already feel the throbbing in his temples.

When he can’t take the suspense anymore, Yamamoto props himself up on his elbows, his hands underneath their goosedown pillows, and groggily looks around their bedroom. The door is ajar, only open far enough to allow about two inches of amber glow streaming in from the hall light.

He takes a look over at the alarm clock and it reads three fifty-seven pm. He’s never been good at math but he counts back to the time he and Gokudera had finally fell asleep and realises he’s slept for over thirteen hours. It’s not an unusual nor impossible thing for Yamamoto to do, but he hasn’t really slept like that since he was a teenager and Gokudera rarely lets him sleep in.

Despite feeling like crap, Yamamoto eases himself up into a sitting position, and the slow motion does nothing to stall the wave of vertigo that crashes into him. It causes him to clutch the white linens coiled around his naked waist for anchorage in hopes the feeling might pass quickly and he won’t need to throw up.

Assuming he’s home, Yamamoto opens his mouth to call out to Gokudera, since he hasn’t spotted a note and Tsuna gave them the day off so they could spend time together, so he must be home. In doing so, Yamamoto realises his throat feels raw and swollen, two hard lumps where his glands should be.

As if on cue, Gokudera swings the bedroom door open, scowl pulled tight at his features and carrying a metallic tray. His mouth is hung open like he's about to yell but when his eyes fall on Yamamoto, his expression softens.

"You’re finally awake, slacker."

Yamamoto can feel his lips move into the smile that comes so naturally when he sees Gokudera. “To be fair, I was travelling and didn’t get much sleep,” he says slowly, working his jaw which feels tight and unhinging and there’s a stab of pain behind each ear when he moves it. “And then, you know, when I came home we —”

"Enough," Gokudera interjects, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I get it. I let you sleep in anyways. I can be a nice guy too, y’know."

Yamamoto grins and stretches out for Gokudera but he gets the tray shoved unceremoniously into his arms instead.

"Here."

"W-what’s this? You… you cooked?" Yamamoto asks incredulously. The food is chazuke with umeboshi and chicken filet with grilled onigiri and ichigo daifuku for dessert. It looks delicious but the aromas invading his nostrils are making him feel ill. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s been feeling unwell or if it’s because Gokudera’s cooking is equivalent to his sister’s, except Gokudera manages to burn down households on top of all that.

Yamamoto deadpans. “Wait… is our kitchen still in one piece?”

Gokudera flashes him a dirty look and Yamamoto can see colour rise in his cheeks which he will never stop finding adorable. “Shut up, stupid. I… I didn’t cook it.”

Yamamoto chuckles and that hurts a lot, makes the blood pound hard in his head. “Really? Where did you find Japanese food like this? It looks home made.”

"I went to see the tenth today, I had some business to take care of. And Kyoko-san was cooking so I — just eat it, you bastard," Gokudera grumbles, crawling onto the bed to situate himself at Yamamoto’s side. He ends up stretching himself out, propping his head up by resting his chin in the palm of his hand and he watches Yamamoto expectantly.

Yamamoto doesn’t want to let Gokudera know whatever trouble and embarrassment he had gone through to get the obvious comfort food to go to waste, something Yamamoto can't get here in Italy and would _need_  after a fourteen hour flight in from Egypt because the Vongola jets needed maintenance and there was a ridiculous amount of lay over waiting times with Air France, the only flight Yamamoto was able to catch. It makes Yamamoto's heart swell so much that it threatens to burst because it's just one more thoughtful thing Gokudera does without even being conscious of it -- and if he is, he seeks no gratification from it. It's just one more way that Gokudera shows his love without having to say it out loud.

He picks up the spoon first, dipping it in and then tasting the broth and letting the warmth slide down his throat in hopes it soothes the burn there but once it hits his stomach, his stomach begins to heave and churn.

"Is it good?"

"Yeah, it’s good," he lies. It’s making him feel worse and the flavour is awful on his tongue, even though he knows it’s Kyoko’s cooking, so it should in no ways resemble Bianchi’s.

Gokudera moves to sit up and leans in close and Yamamoto’s pretty sure his cover’s just been blown. After all, he can’t expect Gokudera not to notice.

"Hey. You look kinda pale. And you’re sweating. Are you feeling okay?" he asks, and Yamamoto feels those green eyes on him; hot with inspection and suspicion.

Yamamoto sets the tray on the night table beside him, the sudden movement jostling him and causing his stomach to flop while his head spun. “I’m fine,” he lies again but he knows Gokudera’s smarter than that. “And I should get out of bed — Squalo had mentioned that he wanted to see me when I got back and —”

"What? No. You just got home. Who cares what that noisy shark wants. The tenth gave us a day off for a reason —"

Yamamoto can’t help but smile. “Oh, does that mean Hayato wants —”

"Don’t say it," Gokudera threatens with half a smirk but he reaches out to pull Yamamoto over to him and when his hand touches Yamamoto heated skin, he draws it back quickly, like he’s been burned. "You’re hot."

"I know," Yamamoto teases but it’s not worth anything because he doesn’t have the energy to put the right amount of arrogance into it, and now that Gokudera knows that he’s sick, it’s like his body has been feigning some state of minor wellness before because he feels ten times worse all of a sudden.

"You’re an idiot," Gokudera mutters and settles a hand to Yamamoto’s forehead. The touch is welcomed, as at any point Gokudera’s touch is, but Yamamoto finds little relief in the coolness coming from Gokudera’s palm.

"You’ve got a fever," he states disapprovingly and when Yamamoto looks over at him, he can see the prominent scowl but behind that it is genuine concern because his eyes don’t match the sourness on his face. "I should call Shamal."

"It’s nothing," Yamamoto insists, wrapping this fingers around Gokudera’s wrist. "Besides, he’ll only give you trouble. You know how that guy is." Yamamoto finishes with Shamal’s _I don’t treat men_ silently in his head before resting it in Gokudera’s lap. He feels a fresh wave of nausea pass over him coupled by a hot flash. He draws in a breath and wills the feeling away because there’s no way he wants to give up resting in Gokudera’s lap for resting on the edge of a toilet seat. The pounding in his head is back with a vengeance and he thinks if he can just go to sleep again, he’d feel better once he woke up.

Gokudera’s silent, offering his hand to sift through Yamamoto’s hair and graze his scalp and Yamamoto welcomes that sensation too, because that in itself is the remedy he needs to feel better. But it isn’t long before Gokudera speaks and it’s not without the slight tremble of worry only Yamamoto would be able to pick up after knowing everything about this man for the last ten years of his life.

"You could have caught something, stupid. We should go to the estate and get you checked out, c’mon." He tugs at Yamamoto’s hair gently, but it sends searing jolts of pain that meander through Yamamoto’s skull to the base if his neck and he shrinks back and hisses without realising.

Gokudera doesn’t offer an apology, he only digs around in his jeans pocket, while Yamamoto rolls over and curls up underneath the sheets. Gokudera’s hand rubs soothing strokes along his spine and Yamamoto doesn’t tease him about being affectionate this time.

"What are you doing?" Yamamoto asks when he hears the faint sound of Gokudera tapping in a number on his cell phone.

"Calling that shit doctor."

Yamamoto tries to sit up, he doesn’t want Gokudera to have to go through the trouble and the hit it takes to his pride to have to ask Shamal for anything, but he doubles over on the bed instead, hand flying to his mouth to stifle the threat of vomiting. His head is throbbing viscously and  he has to blink several times to clear away the black and red dots that begin to appear in front of his eyes.

"That fucking _asshole_ ," he hears Gokudera growl except there’s a shrill edge to his voice and Yamamoto’s worried he’s going to panic for no reason.

"Hayato, it’s just jet lag or something. It’s nothing big, don’t worry," he tries, says it as soothingly as he can despite every time opening his mouth is opportunity for stuff to come spewing out of it.

He could convince himself and Gokudera that his body is just reacting to the change in countries and the fact that he hasn’t taken very good care of himself in the last week during his mission in Cairo, even if he knows he’d get reprimanded for that too. He doesn’t want to have to leave the house, the comfort of his king size bed which has the faint, always lingering smell of him and Gokudera. More importantly he does’t want to leave Gokudera’s care in exchange for anyone else’s — especially that perverted doctor, not when Gokudera’s hand is back in his hair, stroking and massaging his scalp so gently it’d be hard to believe it was Gokudera at all.

He can hear Gokudera curisng in Italian and some of it he recognises, others he’s only ever heard Gokudera use a few times and Yamamoto can’t help but think these are special cuss words reserved only for the people that really piss Gokudera off. But, Yamamoto can’t think too long or too hard about that because with Gokudera’s lulling touch, he’s already beginning to feel better.

"He’s not answering, fucking piece of shit. Come on, let’s go." Gokudera moves to get off the bed, tugging at Yamamoto’s shoulder and Yamamoto shoots his arm out, wraps his hand around Gokudera’s forearm before he can go anywhere or shake him anymore.

"Baby — _please_ …" And it’s brave of Yamamoto to call him this, it’s usually a name Yamamoto uses to get Gokudera’s laughable violent reaction paired with the deep vermilion colour that rises high in Gokudera’s cheeks when he says it, but not today. Today it’s in the form of a plea that’ll hopefully let Gokudera know that all Yamamoto really wants to to is stay in bed underneath the sheets with a warm body pressed into his own. "I just want to stay home, with you," Yamamoto finishes, as if voicing it might make it plausible. Unfortunately, he knows Gokudera better than that, knows that even though he’s twenty four and a little calmer, he’s still frustratingly stubborn.

Gokudera frowns and eases back on the bed, kneeling in front of him. He brushes his hand across Yamamoto’s forehead and even though he says nothing, his brow is creased and Yamamoto can read _I’m worried about you_ from his expression. Yamamoto knows though, when Gokudera opens his mouth it’s going to be in protest.

"Let me just take a cool bath — okay? I’ll feel better after that. And then I’ll go back to bed. And I’ll take something for the fever. Okay?"

Gokudera studies him with thin lips and stern eyes for a good minute before relenting a sigh and wrapping himself around Yamamoto. “Fine,” he growls; mouth so close to his ear that his breath causes Yamamoto to shudder, “but the second your condition changes, we’re leaving and you’re going to see the doctors at the estate. Got it?”

Yamamoto nods, as slow as he can and Gokudera presses a kiss under his jaw; lets his lips linger there for a minute before he gets off the bed and leaves the room.

His body can sense that it no longer needs to keep of the charade of being only in minimal agony, because the second the bedroom door clicks shut, everything comes back full force. Yamamoto dares to move out of the bed, slowly swinging his legs over the edge and inhaling like he’s about to take the leap out of a plane thirty thousand feet up in the air. When he stands, another wave of vertigo hits and he teeters, but quickly regains his composure before Gokudera can catch him.

It’s been a while since Yamamoto’s gotten sick, so he can understand why he feels this bad. But, all things considered, maybe it _is_ because he caught something worse. And as promised, if his symptoms get any worse, he will go get himself checked out but for now he’d rather stay home with Gokudera and take advantage of his rare display of affection. 

He staggers to the en suite bathroom and turns on the shower. They have a beautiful and a little extravagant porcelain claw foot tub big enough for the two of them to fit in, which happened to be on Gokudera’s insistence, with brushed chrome accents centred in the middle of the bathroom. The marble tile is like ice meeting fire underneath his bare feet, and Yamamoto swears he can hear the sizzle every time his soles touch the floor. He reaches over and turns the shower head on, adjusts it so the temperature is just a little under lukewarm and steps over the edge of the tub. Yamamoto settles against the larger end of the tub, the wide mouth of it giving him enough space to stretch out — more like sprawl out. His knees knock against the cool porcelain and he rests his head in the cushioned dip in the centre of the ridge. The water feels good on his skin but his head has yet to stop throbbing. A few minutes in here and he should be fine, take some Aspirin to relieve the headache. Maybe sip some tea if this doesn’t help him feel sleepy, but all Yamamoto knows is that falling asleep in Gokudera’s lap or better yet, in Gokudera’s arms, would be a lot easier — not to mention more preferable. Gokudera’s affection was all the medicine he really needed.

The water begins to collect in the tub, filling it like a bath and the tepid temperature eases the tension in his shoulders and back, makes the searing heat of his flesh bearable. He closes his eyes that still burn painfully and hears the sudden soft pad of bare feet on the tile floor of the bathroom over the rush of the water.

Yamamoto doesn’t open open his eyes, he knows it’s Gokudera coming to check on him — also because there’s no one else inside the house. Hopefully not, anyways. The footsteps disappear and return a while after, just as Yamamoto is starting to slide into sleep.

"I finally got a hold of him," Gokudera says, clearing his throat. He does it loudly enough that the sound resonates through the bathroom.

"Okay," Yamamoto answers thickly, only because he doesn’t want Gokudera thinking he’s dead inside the bathtub. He opens his eyes and rolls his head on the ledge to look in the direction of the entrance. Gokudera stands in the doorway, out of his suit and into a well worn, powder blue tee that Yamamoto happens to recognise as belonging to him, and tight fitting blue jeans. His hair is tied back and he’s barefoot but above all this, Yamamoto takes note of the way Gokudera’s shoulders are hunched and he’s fidgeting with the promise ring (actually engagement ring but Gokudera won’t let him call it that) he wears on a chain around his neck, something Yamamoto’s noticed he does when he gets anxious. His mouth is wrought into a perplexed frown, his thin silver brows drawn close together. He looks _worried_.

"What’s wrong?" Yamamoto asks wearily as he sits up, slow so he doesn’t risk another dizzy spell or any more nausea.

Gokudera shakes his head and shrugs. “Nothing.”

"Well what did Shamal say?"

Gokudera’s silent for a minute before he takes a step into the bathroom. “That it could be cholera or avian influenza.”

Yamamoto rolls his eyes, though they feel gritty like they’ve been coated in sand and it hurts more than the action is worth. “He’s just trying to scare you. I took precautions, it’s just a little fever. I’m probably just overworked.”

It’s Gokudera’s turn to roll his eyes as he comes up behind Yamamoto and kneels at the back of the tub. “Under intelligent, maybe.”

"I don’t need to be smart when I’ve got my own genius," Yamamoto counters, his lips curling into that easy smile.

"Shut up."

Yamamoto doesn’t have to see his face to know Gokudera’s a dozen different shades of red right now and he wants to laugh but Gokudera’s arms slide over his shoulders and his hands dip into the bathwater.

"Feeling any better?" he asks, his breath falling just under Yamamoto’s ear. It makes Yamamoto shudder, now that his skin is cool enough to feel the slight wisp of heat.

"Mm, a little now that you’re here," Yamamoto replies, resting the back of  his head on Gokudera’s shoulder.

"Sap," Gokudera remarks and the sound of it is endearing, like most of Gokudera’s insults. He reaches out and grabs a bath sponge that’s been floating aimlessly in the water. The spray of the shower disperses when it hits Gokudera’s arm, leaving beads of water to glisten on his pale skin. He kisses the top of Yamamoto’s head and drags the sponge up his chest. Gokudera squeezes out the excess water when he reaches Yamamoto’s clavicle and Yamamoto can’t tell if the heat he feels all over is the fever or the warmth from having Gokudera respond to him like this.

The water feels soothing as it cascades down his chest and Gokudera slides the sponge back down Yamamoto’s torso and dips it back into the bath to absorb more water. Yamamoto closes his eyes again and with every stroke of the sponge he feels the nausea subsiding and the headache beginning to dissipate. He breathes in the subtle vanilla scent in the strands of Gokudera’s hair that brush against his face when he moves forward and Yamamoto feels like this can’t get any closer to paradise.

Gokudera repeats this process a few times, slow and deliberate; sometimes stopping to kiss his shoulder, his neck and along his jaw. He doesn’t speak and neither does Yamamoto because he feels like he’s floating away, all the pain and nausea bleeding out of him with every stroke or kiss and he feels really, really good. There’s no medicine in the world that can make him feel this way.

The next time Gokudera leans forward, Yamamoto turns his head and tilts his chin upwards, capturing Gokudera’s warm lips with his own. Gokudera stiffens, Yamamoto can feel the surprise and sudden rigor behind Gokudera’s lips and in the arm that’s frozen across his chest, the sponge resting uselessly on his abdomen. Yamamoto doesn’t let this deter him, Gokudera’s always caught off guard when it comes to acts of love and kindness and reciprocation. Instead he fans his tongue across Gokudera’s lips and nips at the corner of Gokudera’s bottom lip and instantly he can feel Gokudera melt into him; parting his lips and joining Yamamoto’s tongue without hesitation.

He loves the feel of Gokudera’s tongue, the way it rolls over his slowly and skillfully and the unique and heady taste of lingering coffee and smoke only makes Yamamoto yearn for more. Yamamoto can’t help but hum, warm and warbled in the back of his throat when Gokudera’s hand comes up, abandoning the sponge and presses against his cheek while the other curls into the hair at the back of his head. Yamamoto gets lost in these kinds of kisses, the ones are slow and simply passionate; the ones that let Yamamoto know how Gokudera really feels because even ten years later he still uses his actions to speak volumes for the words he doesn’t say.

Gokudera’s hand leaves his cheek but his fingertips skirt along his jaw and brush down his neck idly. Yamamoto can feel a different kind of heat collect in his stomach, replacing any bout of nausea with a greater pull and when Gokudera’s fingers ghost over his chest and reach his navel, there’s a swoop of anticipation in his gut and a hitch of breath; which Gokudera takes as an opportunity to catch his own. His lips don’t move from Yamamoto’s, they just part a little and Yamamoto tingles with every tiny gasp of breath Gokudera takes.

It’s Yamamoto turn to gasp when Gokudera’s long, slender fingers curl around the base of his cock. He doesn’t miss a beat and presses his lips against Gokudera’s and lets him control the pace once again. The shower spray hits Gokudera’s arm and Yamamoto’s chest, offering a brisk solution to the rising temperature of his body. It feels good, especially when Gokudera’s thumb slides up his length with just a little bit of pressure and smooths over the head of his cock. He gasps pleasure into Gokudera’s mouth and fights between sensation when Gokudera’s tongue laps over his and slides against the roof of his mouth.

Yamamoto remembers he has working limbs and raises an arm out if the water, lifts it above and behind him so that he can clutch a fistful of Gokudera’s soft, silver hair while Gokudera’s thumb continues to move against his cock. It makes Yamamoto jolt when Gokudera finally moves his hand up his shaft, but his thumb remains rubbing at the head. He mewls muffled against Gokudera’s mouth and then it leaves him, kisses a trail under his jaw and down his neck while Gokudera’s hand closes over his cock and begins pumping in sure, steady strokes.

Gokudera’s tongue glides up Yamamoto’s neck while his wrist twists and slides up his cock and he uses the pad of his thumb to smudge leaking pre-come around his head and it’s got Yamamoto moaning, his head nothing but a thick fog of pleasure. The fever and nausea has long been forgotten, and all Yamamoto can concentrate on now is the way Gokudera kneads his earlobe between his teeth and the coiling of heat mounting in his stomach.

For a second, Gokudera’s lips rest on the shell of Yamamoto’s ear and every breath sends a ripple down his spine, bursting into smaller ripples as they bounce of each vertebrae. He knows he’s close, his grip tightens in Gokudera’s hair causing the other man to hiss, but he doesn’t have the coherency to apologise. Yamamoto’s arching off the porcelain and shifting his hips to meet Gokudera’s strokes, fucking his hand with the urgent need to release.

Gokudera doesn’t allow it, his grip tightens at the base of Yamamoto’s cock and a groan slips off Yamamoto’s lips, partially in frustration. He relaxes his body back into the water but now it’s a bit of a shock with the high flush of his skin. Gokudera softly kisses his ear and begins pumping once again, and Yamamoto tries concentrating on the slosh of the water each time Gokudera’s hand dips below it to take his mind off coming because he wants this to last just as much, but he can’t. Not when Gokudera whispers, “I love you,” so quietly its barely audible, but it’s enough that the words tickle the inside of his ear and spread warmth throughout his chest. And then Gokudera speeds up and the sensation against of Yamamoto’s already sensitive flesh has him seeing white and overwhelming euphoria floods him. He chokes on Gokuderas name and comes sticky in Gokudera’s palm and over his own chest and Gokudera strokes him right through the remaining spasms of his climax.

Yamamoto sinks boneless back into the bathwater, the shower spray already cleaning off the pearly sheen and Gokudera drags his hand through the mess, pausing to let the water rinse off his hand and then uses it to cradle Yamamoto’s head. He leans forward and meshes their lips together in a languid kiss that leaves Yamamoto completely spellbound. Gokudera pulls away, snagging his teeth across Yamamoto’s bottom lip and rests his forehead against Yamamoto’s. The green in his eyes have some haze, they’re dark with lust but otherwise soft, and it’d be confusing for anyone who wasn’t Yamamoto, but he understands everything about Gokudera.

"Feeling better?"

Yamamoto collects himself, and he can see the hint of a smirk curl half of Gokudera’s mouth.

"Hm," he muses allowing clarity to drag him back down to reality. He does feel better, better than he has since waking up. There’s still a slight bit of fog in his head and a dull ache, but nothing Aspirin won’t fix. He doesn’t feel the need to throw up, and his core temperature seems to have returned to normal, despite the warn glow of his skin. "Yeah. Definitely better."

Gokudera scoffs and stands, and Yamamoto sees dampness patterning his shirt and the ends of his hair are wet, curling around his neck like silver rope.

"Clean yourself off and come to bed. You’ll catch a cold if you’re in there too long," he says, sounding mildly amused. "Doctor’s orders."

The full smirk finally breaks through and he leaves the bathroom. Yamamoto’s left speechless in the bathtub and he lets Gokudera’s words sink in. Warm beds and hot bodies are definitely a welcome trade to the now too chilly bath water. He can’t help but chuckle as he leans forward to shut off the water. He rises slow, expecting to feel dizzy and wobble but he feels just fine. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and the colour is back in his cheeks. He looks better and feels better and it’s all all thanks to Gokudera’s healing hands.


End file.
